There is no other way
by foxmrdck
Summary: After his confession to Karen, Matt realises that his double-life must come to an end. The world doesn't need Matt Murdock anymore. It needs Daredevil more than ever. But there is a point when both, Matt and Daredevil need to accept the help of others to survive. (My take on what happens after season 2! It's very dramatic and deep)
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The stale, stuffy air hugged him like and old friend as he entered the building. He closed his eyes just for a moment and drank everything in. The scent of the old, dusty bricks, the faint chemical waft of the rough, peeled off paint covering the walls, the stuffy air that smelled of hundreds of people that had passed here in the last few years. Everything about this hallway, about this building reminded him of home. For some time, not so long ago, this had been home to him.

The creaking wooden stairs with their bumpy surface and the yellowed, worn out woolen carpet that had outlived generations of boots carrying the dirt and the soot from the city inside. He knew everything like the back of his hand. Nothing had changed since I first stepped through that door, his best friend by his side.

Melancholy slowly spread all through his body. Foggy... his best friend... not anymore as it seemed.

Everything felt so unreal in this moment. As if Foggy was just about to come down the stairs, heading out for lunch break to get some coffee. As if Karen was just sitting upstairs, her nose buried in files, forgetting the whole world around her.

But the truth was undeniable. It was over. Nelson and Murdock was over. Everything they had belonged to the past. No more laughter about one of Foggy's comical remarks, no more fervid conversations about a case. No more clients that left no money but food. It was over, and it was his fault. He had ruined it all. With his pride and his lies. All of what Foggy and he had built. They had wanted to help people, to represent the good in this world, to help making Hell's Kitchen a better place. To save their city. But also to save themselves.

But it had failed. They had failed. Now there was no more hope for the hopeless. No place they could turn to. And that was something, that even the Devil of Hell's Kitchen couldn't give them.

Standing there and taking in the old, damp hallway felt like watching an old, long forgotten, sepia-toned photograph. A debris from happier times, when the world was still turning, when there was a light at the end of a tunnel.

He almost could hear the echoes of Foggy's laughter, of Karen's voice, his own, back in their halcyon days.

But they were quiet and far away.

Without Nelson and Murdock, without his friends the colors of the photograph would soon start to fade just leaving a faint memory.

Suddenly Matt shook his head pulling himself out of this rapid torrent of dark thoughts. He wasn't here to grief. He was here to make things right again. To apologize, to ask for a second chance.

Not to say goodbye. He was here to become a better man, to make amends for all his sins, to save what was left of the sinking ship.

As he slowly started to mount the stairs he took a deep breath. The brown paper bag squeezed under his arm got heavier with every step he took. In this bag was his whole existence, his whole life. He knew now that Matt Murdock couldn't live without Daredevil. Daredevil had become more than a mask, more than a symbol. Somewhere on the way, Matt Murdock had gotten less and less important.

With heavy steps he forced himself to walk down the corridor, down to the door of the Nelson & Murdock office. After one last trace of reluctance Matt finally scraped all his courage together and laid his hand on the wobbly brass doorknob. But before opening the door he explored the room ahead with all of his senses.

Foggy's stuff was mostly packed in boxes, ready to be collected, most of Matt's stuff was already gone, only on Karen's desk still lay a pile of documents, presumable from her new job at the Bulletin. Karen herself stood next to the desk. Matt could hear her heart beating steadily. He could smell her hair, her perfume, the washing powder on her clothes. He loved her scent. Nothing else in the world smelled so good.

He could sense that she was nervous. She constantly fiddled with her hair and shifted her weight. Her hands were slightly trembling, she didn't know where to put them.

She startled when he opened the door and stiffened abruptly.

He pretended not to notice and closed the door behind him. His head turned into her direction as he stood still for a moment. With the paper bag under his arm and the folded cane in the hand he felt his own free hand trembling. He clenched his fist. She wasn't supposed notice his nervousness. He wanted to look strong and confident.

"Thanks for meeting me." His voice was calm and husky. He took the bag from under his arm and dropped the cane with a loud thud on the chair that he knew was next to him.

Karen straightened her skirt and took some tiny, unsteady steps in his direction. Her uncertainty became greater every second. But she had her emotions under control. "What am I doing here, Matt?" Her voice cut through his heart and his soul like a stone-cold blade. It conveyed so many feelings. Frustration, anger, disappointment. But he also thought to hear a tiny spark of hope.

Finally he went towards her and opened the ordinary paper bag. "I uh..." He hesitated but picked up courage again quickly. "I have something..." But before he could pull the mask put of the bag she interrupted him. "No, I don't want it!", she said with strength in her voice. But Matt didn't let go. He couldn't let go. "I have something," he continued unimpaired. "that I need you to see." He swallowed hard, waiting for her reaction. Karen sighed and looked the other way with resentment written all over her face. It almost seemed like she didn't care at all, but he knew, or at least hoped that she did. Slowly he pulled the red mask out, the cool surface of the carbon fibers felt hot, the mask was burning with the truth.

Karen was surprised, but not as surprised as she was supposed to be. Her heart rate had gotten a tiny bit faster and her head had gotten warm, but no exclamation, no gasp, nothing. His excuses about the constant injuries had raised suspicion in her. He waited for her to react, but after a while, it became clear that he needed to say it. She needed to hear it. And he needed to say it. He sighed heavily. "I'm Daredevil." The words didn't come easily. But when they were out, it felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulder.

But she was still staring at him, her breath speeding up, but she remained silent.

He wanted to explain and to apologize, but he felt that this wasn't the right time. She probably didn't want to hear it right now.

So he just kept standing there, helplessly the mask in his hands, looking at her with his blind eyes covered with his sunglasses, trying to produce some kind of an encouraging smile, which wasn't very successful.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to him, she moved. She closed her eyes and clenched her fist around the fabric of her skirt. "Thank you for telling me." she said. And without any further word she slowly walked past him and out of the room, leaving Matt behind in a tornado of his own feelings.


	2. Chapter 1

Fogwell's Gym. It had been quite a while since he found time to come here. Back in college, he would come here at least three times a week, sometimes even more often, whenever he could spare sometimes between his endless hours of studying and his long nights out with Foggy. But now, next to everything that had been happening in the last few months, after all that excitement with Fisk, the Punisher and the Hand, he scarcely ever found time for church, not to mention the gym. But now and then he needed some alone-time, some space, a few moments to gather himself, to focus, to recharge his batteries. He had started to come here in his last year of high school. Stick had left long ago and he had felt the longing for a father, for someone close to him stronger than ever. Life in general often seemed overwhelming to him and he had needed something familiar, something steady in his life.

At the gym he was close to his father and could disconnect with the present, just dwell on the moment, not thinking about anything that happening outside of this room, outside of the division of his mind. Over the years it had become a routine to him. Something that he missed if he had to stay away for a longer time.

The first few times it had been very hard for him to come here. Painful and depressing. His father's presence lingered in every corner of the room. He remembered exactly how he used to sit here as a kid, his braille books in front of him, his fingers flitting over the white pages, but his mind and his ears focused on the fight going on in front of him. He remembered the sound of the punches, leather on flesh, the stench of blood mixed with sweat and anger and fear. The creaking of leather soles on the rubber mats, the panting, the groaning, the cheering. The atmosphere of the crowd, the tension, the frustration, hundreds of breaths, voices, screams, whispers, prayers.

Even if everything of that was a long time ago, whenever he entered the stuffy room all had come back to live in his mind. It made him feel small and insignificant. It made him feel vulnerable. When he patrolled the streets at night, under the cover of his red suit, the fact of him being human often faded in the shadow of the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the feeling of relentless power and superiority. At night, the disguise of the devil made him forget that he could easily fall from his throne. Here at Fogwell's, he returned back to himself, the man behind the mask. The core of his existence. Here, the line between Daredevil, the uncontrollable vigilante and Matt Murdock, the righteous lawyer was being strengthened. He could never allow the line to blur. For his father, for Foggy, for Karen and last but not least for himself. His friends needed Matt Murdock as much as the city needed Daredevil.

Lost in his rollercoaster of thoughts he folded his cane and put it in his duffel bag. Its rough, stiff fabric and the plastic zipper unpleasantly scratches his hand. Usually, he puts on bandages. Mostly because that's what he's used to. That's what boxers did. That's what his father had used to do.

But today he wanted to feel everything on his bare skin. He wanted to feel the rough leather of the punching bag. The single grains of sand that leaked from the seams, the air and the dust escorting his movements. He clenched his already bruised fists and stepped towards the nearest punching bag. He took a deep breath, inhaling the space around him, tensed his muscles and started to let punches hail down on the lifeless bag.

Punch, breathe, punch, breathe. That's all that matter in the next hour. It's just him, the bag, the air and the sounds of the punches, constant like a machine.

He started to lose track of time, track of space. At some point, he stopped to feel the laminated floor and the drops of sweat that trickled down his neck.

Eventually, reality returned in the form of his phone calling out Foggy's name. The monotonous voice pierced his head with a sharpness that made him flinch. He paused in irritation and wiped his face with the uneven cotton fabric of his shirt. He had no idea how long he had already been here. A few hours according to the sweat stains on his clothes and the burning pulsation rolling through his muscles as he moved. Only when he staggered in the direction of the snatchy, unnerving voice of his phone he noticed how exhausted he was. With thoughtful movements, he slowly rummaged around in his duffel bag. He was deliberately slow, he didn't want to talk to his former best friend.

Why did he even bother to call him? Out of worry? Matt sneered. Surely not. He tried to persuade himself that Foggy only needed something formal. His signature concerning the close-down of Nelson & Murdock, or maybe some of his stuff hadn't been picked up from the office yet.

But a tiny little voice in his head told him otherwise. All of this stuff could wait and Foggy surely wouldn't bother calling him outside of the business hours for that. 10:30 pm was not a time to discuss formalities. It had to be something personal. Matt grimaced his face. To stay away from Foggy was for the best. He wouldn't endanger him anymore or hurt his feelings. With hanging shoulders, he slouched on the varnished wooden bench, fighting the vast amount of different feelings rising up his throat. Sadness, anger, frustration and a tiny bit of relief. Although he had never considered his friendship with Foggy as a burden, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulder with the breakup of Nelson & Murdock. One thing less he had to care about.

And he had never thought that it would come to that, but he found himself starting to agree with Stick. He needed to loosen his bonds to other people, to his friends to be strong, to be powerful. They only held him back, slowed him down.

He took a deep breath, put his phone, that had stopped ringing long ago in his bag, pressed his fists to his temples and forced himself to get up. With clenched jaws, he packed up his stuff and left the gym without even turning around as the door thunked shut as a last goodbye.


	3. Chapter 2

The first thing he did after arriving at the apartment was to delete every one of the 59 messages Foggy left on his phone. He didn't even bother listening to them. 'You don't care.' reminded him a tiny voice in the back of his mind. 'Foggy is not important anymore. All of this is over' Even if he didn't want it to be, it still was the truth. His friendship with Foggy had found his end. Just as Nelson and Murdock had. There was no going back from that. His mind told him not to care, to ignore his heart, but in his heart, there was a tiny spark of pain. He shook his head, desperate to get rid of this feeling. The physical movement helped him to clear his mind. He knew that if he didn't put it the feeling out now it would soon inflame both his body and his mind. Deep breaths. Foggy didn't matter. The law firm didn't matter. Karen didn't matter. He had never needed any of this. For a while, he had thought that he did, but he now realised that it was only a fantasy, a dream. Stick had always been right. He was better of without them. By himself. Alone. It was better not to stick to all the unnecessary distractions keeping him from what he should be doing.

With that in mind, it wasn't very hard to focus again.

He emptied his gym bag he had thrown in the corner before. He wouldn't need much stuff where he was going. Only a few clothes, stuff from the bathroom, his suit.

With all that stuff, the bag was still half empty.

Slowly, he headed towards his bed. When he prepared to lift the mattress his hand briefly touched the silk bedsheets. He froze and paused for a moment. Even if it was hard to admit, he would miss all of this. Starting with the soft sheets caressing him at night after his long expeditions, to the comfort of his apartment. There were many things that he would miss about his old life. But as soon as those thoughts arose, Stick's voice started to rampage in his head again. No! That was wrong! All about his old life was wrong. And he was stupid for not seeing this. Stupid and blind.

Furiously he threw the silk duvet away and grabbed the mattress. He dragged it into the corner and carefully took the metal security suitcase out that was hidden under the bed. The touch of the cold metal along with its smell somehow soothed Matt's wrought up mind. The content of the case rattled when he unlocked it with a key from his bunch of keys.

A gun, Paracetamol, Codeine, a pair of backup billy clubs and 10,000$.

His emergency kit for when it got rough. He emptied everything in the suitcase into the duffle bag, except the gun, which he carelessly threw on the floor in front of his bed.

Foggy had coaxed him into getting it. Matt knew that he would never need it. He had different, more effective methods of defending himself. But to calm down his overly worried friend he had bought it.

But guns killed people. And he'd never do that.

He pressed his knuckles against his temples. Killing is wrong! That's what Matt always had believed. But that's not what Stick had said. To kill was just getting rid of a problem. When they were dead, they could never return to cause any more trouble.

Matt's hand slowly felt for the gun. But the cold and sharp feeling of the plastic and the metal made him flinch. This gun represented everything he had loathed in his old life.

It was wrong! Wrong! Wrong! WRONG!

He grunted in frustration, with clenched fists and teeth.

He rubbed his forehead and quickly took the cold, heavy gun.

It would be best to take it. To be prepared for everything. He forced himself to put it in the bag, next to his billy clubs. Everything inside of him was reluctant, but the voice inside of his head didn't leave him a choice.

When he closed the bag he pushed the suitcase off the table. He managed to catch it in time, but a small crash echoed from the floor. He couldn't think of anything that was still left in the suitcase.

His hand found the object on the floor. A bracelet. Elektra's bracelet. He had completely forgotten about it. She had worn it when they first met. He remembered it brushing against his naked skin as she embraced him.

The next morning he had found it on the floor, the lock broken. For years he had wanted to return it, but he couldn't let it go.

Elektra...

Oh, how he missed her. Especially now, that he had come to the conclusion that she and Stick had been right with so many things all along.

He sat down on the floor, the silver bracelet in his hands. Her laughter and her beautiful voice echoed through his mind. She had always made him feel loved and saved. Yes, there had been rough times, but back in college and even later, she often was the reason for his world not to fall apart. He had loved the weeks they had spent in her hideout, away from the world, away from everything.

His head twitched up. The hideout. The perfect place to go. He obviously couldn't stay in his apartment or some hotel. Blind men attract attention. But Elektra's hideout was perfect. The apartment in the upper floor old shabby brownstone house. It was accesable through the roof and as far as the neighbours knew, nobody had lived there for years. Since Elektra had owned the apartment, but was not oficially listed as the owner, it probably hadn't been sold when she had died.

He grabbed his bag, threw his keys on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. That was it. The last moments of the man known as Matthew Murdock.

He hadn't left any note. There was no reason to.

Slowly he made his way to the door. Without ever turning aroung he left. The door unlocked, everything in the apartment exactly how it was. He didn't care and expected no one to.

The apartment was exactly as he remembered. The cheap padlock locking the roof door was easy to crack.

The apartment smelled of dirt, dust and mold. But he didn't care. Not anymore.

The large king-sized bed was still there. The sheets were gone, the bare matress was damp, moths feeding on it. A wooden wardrobe, an old, worn out carpet, a mirror, probably blind by now. Not much else. Exactly how he remembered it. Putting expensive furniture in here would have attracted unneccessary attention, so Elektra had kept things simple. But that was more than enough for him.

Matt grimly smiled at his new home, dumped the duffle bag on his bed and pulled out his suit. It was time to go out there. Time to show the world who he really was. Time to unleash the beast. Time to save his city.


	4. Chapter 3

Foggy paced restlessly around his office, pressing his phone to his ear. Ten days and nothing. Not a word from his best friend. Of course, he knew of Matt's secret, he knew how he could disappear for a while without leaving any note, but 10 days? Foggy hadn't gone to his apartment yet as he was trying not to be overprotective or annoying. Matt still was a grown man and very well capable of looking after himself.

Since Karen had told him about her meeting with Matt, their relationship also had changed drastically. Instead of the expected comradeship, they both kept avoiding each other and didn't know what to say when they had to face each other. Despite her new job Karen still checked into the office once in a while. To see if Matt was there probably. And everything she came in and spotted Foggy and no Matt her face dropped. Foggy didn't take it personally, he knew of Karen's feelings.

But every time he saw her sad puppy-eyed face he cursed his friend for just taking off.

After not leaving a message on Matt's phone for the approximately hundredth time he furiously threw his phone on the desk. What was this idiot thinking? Just leaving him hanging there like that?

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. But no matter how often he told himself that Matt was okay, he couldn't shake off the angsty feeling that had wrapped his tight grip around him.

Determinedly he took his phone and his keys and left the office. He couldn't take this any longer. He had to know that Matt was okay.

When he aggressively knocked on Matt's shabby apartment door he didn't get any answer. Not that he had expected one. "Matt! It's Foggy! In case you're in there: I'm really worried about you! And I'm not gonna stop. I'm gonna kick down that door! You know, I mean it!" Nothing. Not a single sound inside of the apartment. When he banged his fist against the door in frustration, to it surprise it quietly swung open. That was weird. Matt never left his door unlocked. Even when he was home he often locked it. Thieves and other shady folks were quite common in this neighbourhood. "Matt?", Foggy tried it one more time. "The door was open, I'm coming in!" When there was again no reply, he slowly pushed the door open and gasped. The whole apartment was totally dishevelled. Matt was, due to his disability a very tidy person and this... this looked nothing like him. Drawers stood wide open, their content scattered over the floor, the mattress had been removed from the huge bed, and various items lay all across the room.

Burglars!, was Foggy's first thought. He pulled out his phone to call the police but paused as he saw Matt's keys lying on the floor, directly in front of the door. Foggy was sure that they were left there on purpose. It was almost as if Matt had intended to never come back here.

He picked up the keys and placed them where they belonged. Then he advanced further into the apartment, careful not to step on anything.

Nothing seemed to be missing. Matt's laptop was still on the kitchen table. Foggy turned around to look at the chest where Matt kept his Daredevil stuff. It was open. The suit, the billy clubs, everything was gone, except for his father's boxing stuff. Foggy gently touched the soft fabric before closing the box.

Then he turned to the bed. The mattress had been removed from the bed frame, revealing a silver security case that had been sloppily pushed under the bed frame again. It was empty.

When he turned around he almost tripped over a small object lying on the floor. A gun. The gun he had urged Matt to buy a few years back. Sadness arose in Foggy. He was absolutely sure that Matt had put it here for him to find. It was a sign. Matt was gone. For good. And he left the gun to show that he no longer needed Foggy.

Hours later, Karen, who also wanted to check on Matt found Foggy, sitting on the floor, holding the gun, silent tears running down his face.


	5. Chapter 4

Nights, blended into days, weeks, months.

Everything always stayed the same. Kicking, punching and screaming, interrupted by some resting. Day for day, night for night.

But for Matt, this was enough. He didn't need anything else. His purpose was to fight, to protect. Joy and pleasure didn't fit into his life. He had been weak and soft all the time. But now, he had accepted who he really was. And it was giving him everything he needed.

Matt knew that he couldn't allow himself to break for one second. He needed to keep himself occupied. He could never rest.

He knew if he did, his walls would begin to crumble.

All the feelings that raged inside of him like held back water fighting against an impenetrable dam. The only difference was that his dam could crumble, it could break. As long as he was busy saving the city these cracks were controllable. But the breach of his dam was inevitable.

The night had begun quite calmly. A gang of teenagers trying to rob a school mate as part of a bet (he hadn't even needed to take his billy clubs out), another teenager, shoplifting a few cigarettes. Since the Punisher had made his appearance the streets had gone pretty quiet, even after his disappearance.

At one point of the night, Matt found himself sitting on the roof of an apartment block, waiting for a sound that would require his appearance. The city pulsated below him. The humming of the electricity, almost like a beehive, water gushing through pipes, creaks of wood, the faint smell of smoke and rain. Perfume, food, washing powder, wet dog, grass, earth, concrete, rubber, paper... All the different smelled mixed to one. The smell of his city. The smell of Hell's Kitchen. The smell of home.

Suddenly a noise caught his ear. A faint rumbling, from the subway tunnels. Not the usual noises of the trains' machinery murmur, but something different. It was definitely too late for a subway to still operate in this part of the city. He didn't quite know what to make of the sound.

It didn't distinctly resemble a crime, but it made him curious.

The rest of the city was quiet so he could risk checking it out.

With one swing he was on his way down.

He had never liked the subway. Too many people, too many noises, but what he disliked most was the smell. The earthy smell, mixed with concrete, steel, rubber, electricity, rotten wood, waste that had been dumped on the rails, rats. A very bad combination for his hyper-sensitive nostrils.

He took a deep breath of the fresh nightly air before he dived into the tunnel. This was how it must feel to step into a dark cave out of bright sunlight.

But his curiosity conquered his discomfort.

The sound got louder the further he advanced into the tunnel. It was a drilling of some sort. A rumbling that made the subway rails vibrate and rattle. His ears started to hurt, but before he could decide to turn around and leave it be, the sound stopped and he could make out voices around the bend of the tunnel he was in. "That's not enough! The train will go right over it." Male, in his late forties, smoker, drinker, husky voice, confident, bossy, a foreign accent. "I've been drilling the whole night, man! What do you expect me to do?" Male as well, younger, in his twenties, a layer of fear and insecurity under his tough voice, cheap cologne, bad dental hygiene, faint smell of onions and coffee. "It has to be done properly. The train is supposed to crash, not just pass the tiny crack you just drilled here. It's supposed to kill all that fucking Americans with their fucking fake smiles." The older man sighed and wiped the sweat from his face. "You're of not much use boy!"

Drilling, train, crash, kill? All of his brain cells screamed crime now. Slowly he stepped closer, trying not to be seen. They were still discussing, Matt didn't bother to listen.

Just as planned they didn't see him coming. But there was something he didn't see coming either. Suddenly, without any warning, the younger man threw the jackhammer back on. A dull pain exploded in his head, making him press his hands against his ears, which was of not much use. With his ears and his head feeling like they were being scattered his other senses didn't help him in any way. The hammer didn't stop. The pain didn't stop. Matt felt like his eyes were squeezed out of his head. A traitorous scream escaped his lungs. The drilling stopped. The pain tailed off but remained a constant annoyance in the back of his head. "Fuck!" Both heartbeats had gotten faster. The younger man stood there like frozen, but the older man had pulled a gun out of his jacket. Matt, still dizzy and dazed from the noise didn't have any time to react.

A bang, more pain, another bang, he fell down to his knees, he wasn't able to locate all the pain, he wasn't able to grasp a clear pain.

"Are... are you going to kill him?" Matt almost didn't hear the voice. The older man laughed. "Nah! He's not worth the bullet. We just have to wait for the next train! Or he'll bleed out even before. It doesn't matter." The boy gasped. "B...but..." "No 'but'! Be glad he showed up here! You don't have to drill anymore! His body will cause more than enough damage to this city."

Matt felt the boy kneel next to him. His heart raced in fear. Matt wanted to punch him, to defend himself, but he couldn't move. All strength had been drained from his body. He helplessly lied on the floor while the cold, sweaty fingers of the boy fiddled on the edge of his mask.

"Don't!", the older man snarled. "It doesn't matter who he is! And the whole world will know it by tomorrow morning anyways. Get the drill so we can get out of here!" The boy didn't hesitate to follow the orders.

Their steps, moving away from him were the last things he heard before his world shifted into a darkness darker than the one of his blind eyes.

Hi, everyone :D

Thank you so much for reading this far. I began writing this fic with only a faint idea in my head, so yeah... I guess I'll just see where the road takes me! But so far it doesn't look that bad IMHO :)

I'm not a native speaker, so there might be quite a few mistakes in my story, but I'm trying my best! But if you spot something, please tell me, I'm always looking to improve myself!

And, last thing, thank you to all my followers and, especially to those who took the time to give me a review! Your feedback is much appreciated and I'm always suuuper happy about comments and new followers! (I mean who isn't XD)


	6. Chapter 5

This was supposed to be a totally normal day.

The alarm went off at 6:30 am, so Foggy had enough time to take a shower, get dressed without having to rush and to pick up a coffee and a bagel on the way to work. Dead on 8 o'clock he sat behind his massive, huge mahogany desk, working on a case on his brand-new MacBook.

His new job was everything he had dreamed of as a freshman. But now it felt wrong. His co-workers were all top-grade lawyers and there was a good atmosphere in the office, the salary was more than satisfying, his office with view over the whole city was truly amazing, but it just felt wrong. The cases were different. Not very personal, most of the time he didn't even get a chance to get to know the client before court. And something was missing... Matt was missing to be exact. Without any hesitation he would trade his fancy new office and all the money he earned for the damp, drafty office with Matt in it.

Of course he would never admit it, but he missed him. He terribly missed the old days. The days full of laughter and joy and adventure.

Foggy grunted angrily and rubbed his forehead. These thoughts didn't belong here. He had a shitload of work ahead. There was no time for distractions.

But right after he had focused on his work again the phone rang. The front desk. Probably some new case that needed his attention. "Yes?" "Mr. Nelson? This is Liza from the front desk!" "Hi, Liza! You're the new girl right? Welcome on the team." He could feel her awkwardness through the phone. "Thank you Mr. Nelson." "So, what do you have for me, Liza?" "There's someone who wants to speak to you. She says her name is Karen Page." Foggy raised his eyebrows. Karen calling him in the office... that was weird. "You can put her through. Thank you Liza." A short interruption, then he heard Karen's breath on the other end of the line. It sounded louder and more pressed than usually. "Foggy?" Her voice also sounded weak, as if she had just been crying. "Karen? Is everything okay with you?" She laughed nervously. "Yeah. I'm fine. Listen, Foggy, I just got an assignment from my editor. I was supposed to write an article about some guy they found in the subway last night... To see if anyone can identify him..." Karen sobbed. Foggy already feared her next sentences. "It's not..." His voice got heavy with fear. "Is it?" Karen only started to sob louder. "Yes, it is. It's Matt." Foggy had to put the phone down for a moment. He couldn't believe it. He had never thought that he would see him again like this. He somehow had always expected him to just come back one day. "Karen?" He had a hard time trying not to cry. "Is he...?" "Dead? Thank god no! But, apparently he wasn't far from it." Relief spreaded through Foggy's body. "I can get the day off. I'm coming over to the Bulletin. I'll be there in 20! We have to go and find him!" Without waiting for an answer he hung up the phone, slipped into his jacket, left a note for his co-workers and almost ran out of the office.

Karen was already waiting for him when he arrived at her tiny office. Her eyes were red from crying, her hair messy and she fiddled nervously with her pen. "Karen!" He pulled her into a tight hug before he fell down on one of the chairs in front of her desk. She sat down behind it. "Thank god you're here." "Of course!" Foggy gave her a short nod. "Matt needs us now! We're everything he has! So, please, tell me everything you know." Karen sighed and pushed the cup of coffee that she had prepared in Foggy's direction before she started to speak. "Ellison just told me about the article and sent me the files as an email. I opened the picture first." She buried her head in her hands. "I barely recognized him. His whole head is bruised and wounded. I wasn't even sure it was Matt. But then I opened the file and read through all the details... There were reports about strange noises in the subway from last night. Two maintenance guys were sent down this morning to check and they found him. He lay right across the railway, in a puddle of blood. Someone had damaged the railway next to him. They even found footsteps leading away. Anyways... the man - Matt, was shot 3 times, several cuts and bruises. He almost died of bloodloss. They brought him to Metro General. People who know something are supposed to contact the police. Oh, and I already told Ellison not to publish the article! I wanted to see Matt first."

Foggy's expression had grown darker and darker the more Karen talked. His fist were clenched and his teeth pressed together. "Stupid Matt! I told him he would get killed one day!" He wasn't actually mad at Matt, but somehow he had to let his frustration out. "It's not his fault!", said Karen. "I know! That's what makes it worse!"

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Foggy jumped up. "I hadn't thought of it, but why was Matt down there? I mean, Daredevil, yes, but Matt? If he had been down there as daredevil, the whole world would know by now... but..." Karen interrupted him. "Maybe the police wanted to keep his privacy. It's not always the best option to shout everything around." "Let's hope so!"

Karen soothingly patted his shoulder. "Come on, let's go to the precinct."

It didn't take long at the precinct. Foggy had to identify Matt by the picture that Karen had already shown him and he had to give his name and address. Then they were free to go.

Of course, they headed straight to the hospital.

After they showed the police's note to the doctors, they were taken to Matt's room at once. On the way they were told about Matt's condition. He currently was in a come. Apparently that was totally normal with all his injuries and the bloodloss and the malnutrition. That last thing didn't surprise Foggy a bit. Matt wasn't known for his exceptional self-care.

The tiny hospital room smelled of hospital, mixed with blood and sanitizers. As soon as they entered the room, both of them started to sob again.

Both of them remembered Matt differently. His hair had grown quite a lot since they last saw him and his beard made him almost look like a homeless guy. He was skinny. Still muscular, but his wrists and his neck looked fragile, the bones sticking out. His whole head was bruised. Several cuts were covered with band-aids. His whole upper body was covered in bandages.

A mask for ventilation covered most of his face.

Without a word Karen and Foggy looked at each other and grabbed each other's hand.

It helped to have something to hold on to.

Finally Foggy stepped closer to the hospital bed and carefully grabbed Matt's hand. "I'm here buddy! I won't leave until I knocked some sense in you!" A sharp pain cut through Foggy's heart when Matt didn't show any reaction. He closed his eyes and prayed for him to be alright.


	7. Chapter 6

He just started to drift back into consciousness when an incredibly loud beeping ripped apart his ears and a wave of unbearable pain exploded in his head. He opened his mouth to scream, but only a whimper left his lips. He couldn't breathe, something covered his mouth, forcing air into his lungs. Panic made his heart race. The beeping didn't stop, nor did the pain in his head. It grew stronger every second. It felt like his skull would crack.

His first instinct was to hold his head, but he could barely move his arms. Another wave of panic hit him. He started to struggle, tried to escape the invisible power that hurt him and kept him in this vulnerable position.

He couldn't hear anything besides the rapid beeping right next to his left ear and the pain numbed his other senses. He was totally helpless. He couldn't grasp a clear thought, every cell in his brain screamed and squirmed.

He didn't know how long he lay there, completely blind, caught in his body, not able to move or think or scream.

To him, it seemed like hours later when the pain and the noise slowly started to fade. Finally, he was allowed to go in peace.

Of course, he hadn't heard the nurse standing next to his bed telling him about the sedative she was going to give him.

After spending hours and hours on a terribly uncomfortable chair next to Matt's bed, at some point of the night, Foggy finally managed to fall asleep. Karen had left after a little while, saying that she had to get up early for work, but Foggy just had called his new boss who told him to take the rest of the week off to be with his family. Because that was what Foggy had told him and that was how he felt about Matt, his best friend and brother, even if they didn't share the same blood.

Matt meant the world to him. Ever since college they hadn't spent much time apart, they had always been like glued together. Even afterwards during their internship and during the time they had the law firm. But at that point, Foggy had stopped himself from finishing that thought. He had been there so often the last week. Reminiscing and regretting. And he had come to the conclusion that it didn't help. It just made his thoughts spin around even faster.

He didn't know what woke him. Maybe a feeling, kind of a premonition. Because right when he sat up, rubbed his aching back and yawned, Matt opened his eyes. Foggy jumped up. That wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to wake up for at least another 24 hours!

Matt's breathing grew louder and faster. his limbs and his whole body began to twitch and his mouth opened as if he was trying to scream under the oxygen mask.

Without further hesitation, Foggy pressed the emergency button that called a nurse and carefully took Matt's hand in his own. "Matt! It's me! Can you hear me?" No reaction.

It hurt seeing his best friend like this. Helpless and weak.

Only when a loud sob escaped his lip Foggy noticed the hot tears on his cheek. He frowned and wiped them away. Matt couldn't stand other people to cry.

A minute later a nurse arrived. "What happened?", she asked as she hurried over to the bed. "I don't know. He just opened his eyes and started to move like that." Foggy shook his head. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

This time he couldn't stop the tears. Especially not as he saw the red stain on Matt's hospital gown slowly spreading on his chest.

When everything returned to him, the first thing he noticed was the overwhelming, unpleasant smell.

Plastic, cotton, metal, rubber, wood, perfume, flowers blood, sweat, food, sanitizer, detergent and about a dozen other things he couldn't name. But it was enough for him to realise that he was in a hospital. No! Fear twitched through his whole body. What had happened? How did he land here?

The beeping he vaguely remembered was still there but know, that he knew that he was in a hospital it wasn't that scary anymore. Still very loud and very annoying, but bearable.

Breathing was hard. The oxygen mask had disappeared, but his lungs unpleasantly ached, like the rest of his body. But the pain was far away, only in a tiny corner of his mind, almost like a memory. Nothing that would handicap him.

With closed eyes, he tried to calm down his unsteady breath and scanned his surroundings. His senses were still not fully there, he assumed that they had given him some kind of a sedative, but it was enough to get a picture in his head.

His bed stood in the middle of a small hospital room, an end table next to it and a closet on the wall. A tiny difference in temperature and air circulation to his feet. A window, tilted.

There was a faint, steady heartbeat next to him. A stranger, asleep.

Matt shuffled his duvet around and quietly knocked on the bed frame. The person didn't move. They were soundly sleeping.

Outside of his room, everything was quiet as well. No heartbeats, no steps, everything was calm and peaceful.

The perfect opportunity to escape.

Quietly Matt stood up. His body was weak and he got slightly dizzy, but he was fine after a few seconds of finding balance. Slowly he removed the tubes from his hand and his nose and went over to the window to open it. The noises of the city were pretty loud. Third, maybe fourth story. It would be no problem to get down.  
According to the humming of the streetlights and the lack of car horns and shouting people it was night. There were still some cars on the street, but almost no pedestrians that could witness his escape.  
Carefully he stepped on the sill and inhaled the air and the smells of the city. But when he lifted his leg to climb out, a sharp pain stabbed his belly and made him towards the open window.

A warm, soft hand saved him from falling. "Whoa, Matt! Where do you think you're going?", Foggy asked him in the most serious tone.

Matt was confused. "Foggy? What...?"

Foggy didn't even let him finish his question.

"What I am doing here? I'm watching out for your ass!" He pulled Matt back from the window and supported him as his legs gave in. "Come on! Let's get you back in bed!" Matt tried to protest. He had to leave, he couldn't be here, but Foggy's grip was firm and the pain gave him a hard time.

"What happened?", Matt wanted to know as soon as he finally sat back on the bed.

Foggy sat down on the chair next to him and looked at him. "You don't remember?"

Slowly, Matt shook his head. In his head, everything was a blur. He remembered the apartment and heading out for another night, fighting in the city. But then, nothing.

"They found you in a subway tunnel almost two days ago. In your costume, but without the mask. You were shot, two times. In your shoulder and in your hip. And someone beat you up. The police found traces of DNA on your body, I'm sure they will know who attacked you soon.

Matt gasped. This was worse than he thought it was. They knew who he was. They knew his identity.

But then, another thought crossed his mind. It didn't matter. Matt Murdock didn't matter anymore. His old life didn't matter anymore. Even Foggy didn't matter anymore. All the pain and the shock had made him forget that.

His body stiffened as he sat up straight. "I'm sorry that you go caught up in this. But I promise this has been the last time."

"What are you talking...?" Before Foggy could end his sentence, Matt had already stood up again. And this time he just shook his hand off as Foggy tried to hold him back. Matt murmured one last time that he was sorry and climbed out of the window. By the time Foggy looked down he had already vanished.

Fear grabbed Foggy's whole body. Not again! He couldn't bear losing Matt another time. But this time was different. Matt was hurt and the pain killers would wear off soon. They would find him. They did last time.

But what if he just died... lying there in a dumpster in a hidden alleyway. The tears came back as Foggy quickly grabbed his coat and stormed out of the hospital, his phone already connected to the police station.


	8. Chapter 7

In every bone and every muscle of his body, he felt a throbbing pain.

His mind was still clouded from the meds the nurses had given him but he could think clearly enough to analyse all his injuries.

Two bullet wounds. One through his right shoulder, the bullet had gone straight through, the other one through his right hip. The second bullet apparently had been stopped by his hip bone. He sensed the crack that was creaking as soon as he moved.

Everything matched to what Foggy had told him had happened, but he still couldn't remember anything of what had happened.

The rest of his body was pretty messed up too.

Several bruises all over his body, some were barely noticeable, others sent waves of dull pain through his body. But they were tolerable.

What worried him more were the compression fractures in both of his legs. He wasn't sure whether they had already been there and the nurses hadn't noticed them or if they had been caused by the jump out of the hospital window.

But it didn't matter. He knew that he could risk severe complications by not treating them right, but he didn't have a choice.

He didn't have anywhere to go and he didn't have any money to pay medical bills.

The first thought that had crossed his mind had been Claire, but he couldn't do that to her again. Just showing up on her doorstep, heavily injured.

He knew how she hated to see him like that. And besides that... it was too dangerous.

He had no idea what had happened and Foggy had said that they had found him with his suit. And his mask... Whoever had attacked him, they had seen his face. It sure wasn't hard to find out who he was from there. Maybe they had even taken pictures.

Foggy hadn't said anything about it being in the news.

If they wanted to reveal him, he was sure, that they would have done it by now. Probably for the same reason they left him alive.

But he had no idea why.

Slowly he slid down the brick wall he was leaning against. He was hiding in a back alley, not far from the hospital.

His plan had been to go back to Elektra's apartment that he had used as a hideout, but there was too much pain, and he felt exhaustion pushing him down.

Lost in thought he dug his finger into the dry earth, the sensation made his skin prickle. The dust crumbled in his hands.

He grinned gloomily. It was like a metaphor for his life. Everything was crumbling and he couldn't hold on to it.

A slow tapping dragged him back into reality.

It sounded familiar. A sound that had accompanied him since he had got blind. The tapping of a white cane. And it headed straight towards him.

Oil, sweat, aftershave, rust, earth, almost inaudible breathing, a steady heartbeat, self-confident steps.

Matt jolted back, his back pressed close to the wall as he slid up to his feet. His whole body protested and a quiet groan escaped his lips.

But he heard it. He always did.

His voice hadn't changed a bit. Husky and there was always an almost inaudible layer of sarcasm in it.

"I'm proud of you, boy! You did the right thing."

Half of Matt cheered. His mentor had acknowledged his actions. He actually praised him.

But the other half wasn't as enthusiastic.

The last time Stick had been around everything started to head south. He had only brought chaos and despair.

"I know what's going on inside of your head now."

There weren't any feelings in Stick's words. Only sober observation.

"Come on! Let's get you out of here. It's not safe."

He held out his hand to help Matt up, but Matt pushed it away.

"I don't need your help, Stick! I'm fine on my own."

"I see! That's how you got all those wounds."

The sarcasm was back in Stick's words. Matt sharply sucked in air as Stick poked his cane into his side, making the pain bubble up again.

"Stop! Stay where you are!"

Matt froze. He hadn't heard anyone coming, the meds were still weakening his senses.

Stick started to laugh quietly, he had kept his relaxed posture all the time. "Mr Franklin Nelson!"

Foggy! Matt hadn't realised him, hadn't expected him to be there.

"Put the stick away from him!", Foggy ordered, trying to sound tough, but a slight shiver in his voice exposed his shakiness. "Now!"

Stick slowly raised his hands taking a step away from Matt.

"You haven't told me how brave your friend is." Sheer mockery in his voice.

"Matt?" Foggy sounded even more insecure than before. "Do you know this guy?"

"Know me? Of course, he knows me. He's known me since he was still in his swaddling clothes. We're family!"

Matt snorted. "Right! The last time you saw me you wanted to kill me and Elektra. That's exactly how you treat family." In irony, Matt and Stick were on a par.

"Matt? Who is this man?"

Matt sighed. He cursed Foggy for showing up right at this moment. "He's the one who trained me as a kid. The blind ninja I told you about!?"

"Blind ninja?", Stick sneered. Matt hissed as a warning for him to shut up.

"Yeah, I remember!", Foggy said, a certain sharpness in his voice. "But what's he doing here? You said he was gone!"

Matt gave him a tiny exhausted smile. "I thought so, too! But obviously, he's decided to come back! That brings us back to the point! What do you want?" Matt turned to Stick again, the hint of a threat made his voice sound dangerous.

Stick raised both of his hands and he took a step back. "It's not like last time! I'm here to help!"

Irony in Matt's voice again. "Yeah, that's exactly like last time. But I'll tell you again! I don't need your help."

This time Stick burst out in a loud laugh. "I see! You're standing here, in the mud with a hospital gown, you can't walk properly and you didn't even hear me coming! I would say that you pretty damn much need my help."

"No, thank you! If I need help, not yours."

Foggy stepped closer. "He's right. We don't need you! He has friends that help and support him."

His courage was barely convincing and his heartbeat told Matt that he was still afraid of Stick and unsure what to do.

But Matt turned away from him. "No, Foggy! We're not friends anymore. We haven't been for quite some time."

Foggy gasped in surprise. "B...but Matt... Look at you! You need help. There's no way you're surviving this on your own."

Matt shrugged. "I've dealt with worse situations. It's not impor..."

"Don't you say that it's not important!", Foggy shouted, anger in his voice. "You, Matthew Murdock... You, my best friend, my brother... You are important! You are important to me... and to... to Karen and to so many other people."

Matt swallowed heavily. "Foggy... that's... that's not true!"

Before he could add anything else he was interrupted by another outbreak of laughter by Stick.

"How heartbreaking. Now can you please wait with this until we're somewhere safe?"

"Why shouldn't we be safe here?", Foggy asked.

"They know..." Stick simply responded, pointing his head at Matt.

Matt felt both, Foggy's and his own heart speed up.

He closed his eyes, something that calmed him down, even if they were useless. He couldn't risk getting too emotional.

For the last hours, this had been far away. The Daredevil vs. Matt Murdick thing. It hadn't mattered. Matt Murdock hadn't mattered. Only the devil had.

But now, with Foggy stepping back into his life all of a sudden, it came closer again. Not only Foggy but every aspect of his old life that he had tried to banish so hard.

Karen, his job, his home... Things he thought that he didn't need, but that he still missed so much.

Sticks voice cut through his thoughts, reminding him of where he was.

It was still hard to focus and Matt wasn't sure if that was really because of the meds or if his injuries were too heavy for him to handle.

Every moment he stood there, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, his feet hurting, almost not able to carry his body, he felt more tired and more exhausted. Stick probably didn't notice because he didn't care, but Foggy did.

"Matt? You're hurt! Let's get back to the hospital! Your injuries have to be treated properly."

But Matt knew he couldn't go back.

"Give him some time, let him do some meditation... He doesn't need anything else." Stick snapped at Foggy.

"Yes, he does! Look at him. He can barely stand, one of his wounds started to bleed again..."

Before Stick could answer, Matt raised his voice. "Foggy! Stick is right. I don't need a hospital. I just need to find out who's behind all this, so I can make the city safe again."

He knew how much these words would hurt Foggy, but pushing him away was the easiest thing to do to keep him out of this whole thing.

"Matt!" Foggy's voice sounded wet, his clothes swished when he wiped a tear from his face. "I already told you! You matter! More than the city. There are other people out there who keep the city safe. The police are clean again... And I know that nobody does the job as well as you do, but if you don't take care of yourself..."

Foggy started to sob. "Someday they won't find you in time to get you to the hospital. Someday it'll be too late and everything, everything you did to save this city was for nothing." Matt felt his chest tighten.

"Foggy... I can take care of myself. I... I have to do that. I have to be Daredevil, I can't survive without him anymore. He's a part of me... he's... he's the more important part of me. The part that counts, that makes a difference. I can't just give it up to lead a nice cosy life wrapped in silk sheets and sitting around in a stuffy office. This is who I am... Matt Murdock... he died somewhere along the way. The world doesn't need Matt Murdock. It needs Daredevil."

They both jumped as Stick started to clap slowly.

"Nice speech boy! But cut it! We have to go. We got some business to discuss." Slowly and reluctantly, Matt nodded.

"I'm sorry Foggy... But it's better that way. I don't want you to get hurt!"

He briefly bowed his head to his former best friend. A silent goodbye.

Then he limped after Stick, once again leaving Matt Murdock behind, dedicating his life to the city.


End file.
